


comfort and predictability

by officialhaikyuu (kobayashimarryu)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Hurt / Comfort, M/M, Manga Spoilers, Pre-Relationship, haikyuu 143, my prediction for the current match and angst about it, theres a lot of tears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-02
Updated: 2015-02-02
Packaged: 2018-03-10 02:56:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3274100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kobayashimarryu/pseuds/officialhaikyuu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>“You know, Hajime, I keep thinking that maybe I should have tossed to Kyoutani, maybe I should have dumped it over the net myself, but I know now that if we couldn’t have done it together, we couldn’t have done it at all.”</em><br/>In which Oikawa learns that not all losses, final as they may seem, are the end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	comfort and predictability

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this because I'm a sucker for pain and OikIwa. Let's be real here, there's only one way the aobajousai match is gonna end.  
> Special thanks to [exireh](http://www.exireh.tumblr.com/) who helped me out with this when I was losing the will to continue with it.  
> Kudos and comments are much appreciated!

"Damn it."

It was harder to breathe in the face of such a final defeat, harder to move and feel as the last minute adrenaline drained from his body, pain intertwining with the absolute exhaustion that now lanced through his limbs.

" _Damn it_ ," he repeated between pants as he bent over to rest his hands on his knees, staring at the court, stinging in his eyes and all over his hands. This tournament had been their final chance but here they were, all hunched over as if the winning spike from Karasuno had physically winded them. We should have won this match, so easily could have won this match.

"Oikawa," Iwaizumi began, unable to hear much over the blood rushing in his own veins. He didn't look up, feeling guilty that he didn't try harder to block Karasuno's last attack, didn't try harder to spike Oikawa's last toss through their defence. Oikawa had tossed to him instead of Kyoutani, backed into a corner as Karasuno was once again one point ahead in their deuce. Oikawa had trusted him to regain that point, to forge the path to their victory, had trusted him to get them through to a match against Shiratorizawa, and yet --

"I'm sorry for--"

"No, Iwa-chan," came Oikawa's voice, emotionless and cold, cutting through the noise of Karasuno's rowdy victory. Iwaizumi was almost scared by that voice, apprehensive. Oikawa rarely spoke in anything but a lighthearted, teasing tone, occasionally a serious and determined one, but never one that sounded so resigned and absent. Iwaizumi sniffed at the tears that still swam around his eyes, at the vexation of losing that ebbed at his tired mind, looked up at his friend.

Oikawa stood there, one hand closed tightly around part of the net, a slight scowl on his face as he started towards where Karasuno's team was huddled. He was rigid, totally absent of every ounce of energy and emotion he'd had mere moments before. Oikawa, for the first time since they’d met more than ten years ago, wasn't crying about something he considered to be important, and that was enough to finally pull tears from Iwaizumi.

Oikawa didn’t turn towards him, probably too caught up in his own emotions to notice how affected Iwaizumi was. "There's no point in feeling sorry for yourself." The words were bitter, laced with venom that he knew wasn't directed at anyone but Oikawa himself but made him scrub at his damp eyes nonetheless. An uncomfortable ache spread through his chest, but their coach called them to line up to bow before he could think to respond. He stood to Oikawa's right as they bowed before moving forward to shake hands with Karasuno. He shook hands with their libero, feeling jealous of the shit-eating grin on the guy's face. He was envious of Karasuno's overflowing joy and energy, their excitement at the idea of continuing to the next match. _That should be us. We should be the ones smiling, Oikawa should be the one congratulating his team, be the one smiling._

Aobajousai began moving from the court, heading to the locker room. Iwaizumi followed, too caught up in his suddenly almost violent emotions to notice much but how Karasuno's captain grinned at his team, said something that looked like _onto the next match_.

Oikawa remained silent beside him as they walked.

* * *

 

The team rested in various positions in the locker room, most as still as statues, totally drained of any energy they’d had today. Understandably, everyone was frustrated, whether on their own terms or because of how freely it flowed from other members. The coaches had left to go meet with the coaches of some other teams. Iwaizumi leaned against the locker, arms crossed with a towel resting half over his head, wondering when Oikawa, _anyone_ , was going to say something to break the silence. He almost spoke up first, wanting rid of the stale atmosphere, but was bet to it by Yahaba.

“I’m sorry,” he spat out. “I should have tried better when I was on court. I could have done something.” The second year setter’s fists clenched tightly where they rested on his knees, face scrunching up as his head rolled down towards the floor. He looked like he was almost shaking with the discontented anger in him. Other younger members, Kyoutani and Kindaichi especially, were in similar states of frustration. It was strange. Iwaizumi primarily felt numb now something that seemed to be reflected in the demeanor of all four third years. The second and first years had more chances ahead of them. They had the luxury of that reassurance, one that the third years didn’t have.

Iwaizumi slid his gaze towards Oikawa, wondering if he was going to speak at all, if he was even going to react. The captain’s face was expressionless, totally blank, and he seemed so small then as he stood stiffly next to a row of lockers, hands in the pockets of his jacket. Oikawa didn’t look like he was in the position to be able to give out happy encouragements like he usually would.

He sighed, feeling much older than his years allowed. He unfolded his arms to take the towel from his head, gaze shifting to Yahaba. “You have a whole year left to keep improving. This is something you can learn from and use to get better.” The words tasted sour to him, ones that inevitably boiled up feelings of jealousy. But he knew what he was saying was what had to be said, as the third years had told him last year. “You have nothing to apologise for. None of you do.”

“But you don’t have next year!” Kyoutani’s words were blunt, louder than they needed to be in such a quiet space, but not unexpected. Iwaizumi knew that everyone had been thinking it. It was an unavoidable truth. He looked back over to Oikawa only to find that he was no longer in the room. He must have slipped out only a few moments ago and that worried Iwaizumi. Oikawa had always been a loud and noticeable if annoying presence in his life, and now he was so quiet it was like he didn’t even exist. In all the years they’d known each other, Oikawa had never acted like this, so lost, dejected, dispassionate. Not even when they lost to Ushijima at the end of middle school.

Iwaizumi turned back towards the rest of his team, gaze flitting from Hanamaki and Matsukawa to everyone else. He offered a sad smile to Kyoutani. "You're right. We don't have a next year. But that's just how things are." He shrugged his shoulders, at a loss of what else to say. Oikawa was better at doing this sort of thing when he felt the situation was serious enough to forgo jokes and lightheartedness. Iwaizumi's forte had never lay with leadership and motivation quite the same way Oikawa's had.

He moved to his locker, pulling his bag and jacket from them, hooking his bag over his shoulder. "Right, everyone get ready and be at the bus in less than an hour. Coach wanted us to get back early."

Iwaizumi left the room to the sound of a half-hearted chorus of _okay_ , knowing that the situation was anything but.

* * *

 

Oikawa wasn't hard to find, as predictable as he’d become to Iwaizumi over all the years they’d been together. He found him at the grassy slope behind the sports centre that looked out over a park and some small residential buildings. This was the most isolated spot given that the only way to get here was to leap a considerably tall fence. The sun was still pretty high, hidden by a few dark clouds that splattered the sky and left a shadow that cast everything into an upsettingly dull shade of grey.

Iwaizumi didn’t call out to his friend at first, pausing a good few meters away when he caught the dark expression on his face. He was familiar with Oikawa’s tendency towards self-loathing, had witnessed and intervened with one too many after-hours practice sessions, but he was startled by just how bad this round seemed to be. When they lost against Ushijima in their last year of middle school, Oikawa had cried like a disgusting snot-ridden baby, but he had at least visibly responded. Now there was just nothing but what seemed to be internalised hatred, and as scared as that made Iwaizumi, it pissed him off in equal part.

“Oi, dumbass,” he called as he marched over to where Oikawa sat, hunched over with his arms wrapped around his knees. “You’re making people worry about you, dumbass. Stop acting like a child.” He emphasised his words with a flick of his finger to the side of his friend’s head. There was none of the usual _that hurt Iwa-chan you monster!_ just more silence before a mumbled and monotonous “is that the only insult you know, Iwaizumi.”

“Tch.” Iwaizumi moved his bag from his shoulder to the ground, sitting down and sprawling out on his back next to where Oikawa was still hunched over. His muscles ached, twinged and protested as he struggled to get comfortable. The captain made no move to budge from his position, instead tightening his pose even further. It made Iwaizumi frown.

“I just don’t want to waste my good insults on someone like you,” he sighed, voice harsh but free from any real malice. He had never known how to take the comforting route when it came to making anyone feel better, and he was still at a loss now. Maybe he should have sent someone like Yahaba or Kindaichi instead. They would probably have fared better with issuing kind words.

For a few moments they were silent, Iwaizumi staring at Oikawa’s back as Oikawa looked out, unseeing, over the view below them. He didn’t really have anything to say, and didn’t know how to navigate his way into prompting Oikawa into talking about whatever was going on in his mind, so he waited.

The quiet stretched on for a while, punctuated only by the sounds of the faint breeze as it blew by. Eventually, Oikawa moved, stretching his legs out in front of him. His gaze trailed from the distance to the grass his hands rested on.

“I really blew it this time, didn’t I?” He seemed almost to be talking to the grass that twined through his fingers, and there was a quiet resignation in his words that strengthened the ache that spread through Iwaizumi’s chest.

There wasn’t any way to deny that the whole situation was a loss. They had lost the match to Karasuno after all, had lost their last chance to go up against Ushijima and Shiratorizawa. There was no way around that. But all of this self-aimed blame was beginning to piss Iwaizumi off - it reminded him too much of their days at middle school, of times when Oikawa would shut himself off in a similar way to what he was doing now, and train himself relentlessly, unforgivingly. He went to a place within himself that Iwaizumi had never been able to touch or understand. That part of Oikawa terrified him. It had ended up in countless fights between the two of them, long and unbearable days where Oikawa wouldn’t speak unless it was about volleyball. He remembered all too well how many times these periods had only ended because his friend felt enough pain in his injured knee to realise how close he was coming to a permanent and more destructive lesion.

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi began lowly, anger seeping into his voice as he sat up. “This isn’t your-”

“ _But it is!_ ” Oikawa’s words were explosively loud in the relative quiet, the emotionless charade broken by the tempestuous feelings he must have struggled to suppress from the moment the final whistle blew. There were tears already falling from his eyes as he turned to face Iwaizumi, a deep-rooted and desperate hopelessness in his gaze that pinned him to the spot.

“It _is_ my fault! I’m the reason why we lost today and every other time, why we’ll never get to beat Ushiwaka like we always said we would.” Oikawa had to pause, hiccuping and sniffing as his nose started to run. He had always been a gross crier, something he used to complain to Iwaizumi about for hours. He used to try hiding it with a _I can’t let you see me when I’m ugly, Iwa-chan!_ but today he didn’t even move to wipe his face.

“I was- I was never good enough to win.”

Iwaizumi had never, even in the tougher times, seen Oikawa so openly raw and vulnerable with his emotions. Most people saw him as transparent, always smiling or laughing, especially around girls, but this was a level that very few people ever seemed to discover. He had, at heart, always been riddled with insecurities that seemed to plague him no matter where he turned. He had always struggled with them, something Iwaizumi was well aware of, but had persevered beyond them, continuously aiming to improve himself, even when there was nothing but defeat after defeat, in the hopes of one day claiming victory. But in the face of such a final defeat, Oikawa was broken, entirely stripped of his determination and confidence. He was convinced now only of his flaws, saw no saving grace in himself.  

“Tooru…” Iwaizumi barely breathed the name, wrapping a hand around Oikawa’s wrist as he tried to ground him. Their faces were close enough now that when Oikawa looked up, he could see his own face reflected in his eyes. They only look at each other for a few seconds before tears began streaming down Oikawa’s face again, and there were suddenly arms tight around his waist, dampness soaking through his jersey.

This was hardly unfamiliar to him; as kids, they had often - begrudgingly, in Iwaizumi’s case - ended up like this whenever Oikawa had a nightmare, or had watched a documentary that disproved aliens. It became a habit that persisted throughout the time they’d known each other, one he now associated with affection and the need to be protective of Oikawa. He lifted a hand from where it rested on the ground, threading his fingers lightly into Oikawa’s hair. A small smile graced his lips even as he felt tears fall down his own face.

“It’s not your fault that we lost, idiot. You tried harder than everyone to win.” And it was true - Aobajousai’s heart and soul could be found in Oikawa Tooru, the foundation and leader of their team, the one who managed to fine-tune and integrate the talents of multiple individuals into one well-oiled machine.

There was a mumbled response from Oikawa, muffled by cloth and snuffles, but undoubtedly a rejection of his words.

“Dumbass. I’m telling the truth here, and it’s embarrassing.”

Oikawa shifted from their position enough that he could wipe the sleeve of his jacket across his face a couple times, sniffing as the tears welled at his eyes again and it was disgusting how much snot there was on his sleeve and on his own jersey but at least now, Iwaizumi thought as he tilted his head to look at him, at least now he was smiling.

“You know, Hajime, I keep thinking that maybe I should have tossed to Kyoutani, maybe I should have dumped it over the net myself, but I know now that if we couldn’t have done it together, we couldn’t have done it at all.” If it had been any other occasion, Oikawa would have followed that remark with a teasing _we’re so perfect for each other Iwa-chan_ and Iwaizumi would have thrown a volleyball at his head but it was not any other occasion and they were both staring at each other with tear tracks on their faces, hugging like they did when they were kids and Iwaizumi felt so much sadness and affection in that moment that he couldn’t do anything but quietly reply “I know, Tooru” with a shaky, tear-strained voice.

“I’m glad I tossed to you, in the end.”

He watched in silence as Oikawa tried and failed to dry his face with a soaking wet sleeve. After a few moments, he snorted and rolled his own sleeve up and wiped it gently across the worst areas, trying to ignore the uncomfortable feeling of the cool damp material against his arm.

“ _Thank you_ ,” Oikawa mumbled, looking tired but no longer like he was dead as he kept his eyes level with Iwaizumi’s, and he knew he wasn’t just grateful that he’d used his sleeve to remove an unbelievable amount of snot and tears. There was just the smallest hint of shyness in his voice and in his eyes, but it was eclipsed by a strong sense of seriousness. He hesitated for a few seconds before moving a hand towards Iwaizumi’s face, resting the palm gently against his cheek, trying to convey just how much he meant it. His face warmed to the touch, and Iwaizumi didn’t think he’d ever experienced such an intimate moment in his life.

The buzzing of his phone cut through the silence, startling them both into falling away from one another. Iwaizumi checked it quickly, ignoring how loudly his heart was beating in his ears. “It’s from Maki. He says the coach is gonna leave without us if we aren’t at the bus in five minutes.” He shoved his phone back into his pocket, standing up to grab his bag and heave it over his shoulder.

He glanced down to where Oikawa remained on the ground, seemingly stuck in a state of shock. He cleared his throat, clenching and unclenching it before offering his hand to Oikawa. The captain started blankly at his hand before sending a questioning glance his way.

“This isn’t the end, you know,” Iwaizumi said, feeling slightly awkward as he just stood there like an idiot with his hand outstretched. “There’s no way Ushijima won’t join a college team. We’ll get to play him... and win one day.”

His choice of words noticeably sparked something in Oikawa who moved to pull himself up with Iwaizumi’s offered hand. The familiar gleam of determination was once again in his eyes. “Right as ever, Iwa-chan.”

****  
  



End file.
